Canada is lovely this time of year
by planet p
Summary: Miss Parker returns from Canada, to some startling revelations, but she has a revelation of her own.


**Canada is lovely this time of year** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

* * *

_2007_

Parker was seated in a black leather sofa, shiny as though having been studiously polished, and too cushy for comfort. The parlour was spacious, the floor sprawling white marble. Parker was reminded less of a home and more of a foyer of some large and decadent institute.

* * *

_Five years ago_

Parker gazed around the smart foyer, taking in the layout and design, the alternating black and white. The room itself was all white, though decorated with black furniture and other objects. She shot a terse glance across the room at the strange plant sitting in a tall pot, a form of succulent, she supposed, with fleshy red-black leaves, its central stem rising up tree-like from out of its black stone housing.

Shifting her gaze from the strange plant to the reception desk, she suddenly found herself thinking of her twin. It had been three months since his transfer to Africa, during which time she had heard nothing. Personally, she hoped he was dead, but deep down she knew that was too delightful an ending to hope for, so she didn't. Disappointment was born of expectation. She expected nothing where Lyle was concerned.

Unlike the plant, the receptionist appeared perfectly ordinary, dressed in a prim suit of dark grey, with perfectly plain features. The only remarkable thing about her seemed to be the strand of black pearls she wore around her neck, hues of green, pink and blue shifting across its surface as Parker walked, her legs and feet protesting with little twinges.

The Narcissus Institute functioned as an experimental eugenics facility under the guise of a research facility exploring the human genome. Parker did not care greatly for either pursuits. She felt overheated and slightly nauseous, and the thought of this 'farm' she had been sent to visit gave her the creepy crawlies.

This time, there was no Sydney and Broots, not even any accompanying Sweepers. The freedom had been a welcome change for a few hours, but now she was simply miserable, miserable enough to be thinking of her evil twin. She felt sick.

Her assignment was simple, to acquire a new Pretender child. As much as she detested the idea, she knew the slightest refusal to do so could only land her in further trouble, something which needed no facilitation in the wake of her failure to recapture Jarod the previous year on Carthis, and Mr. Parker's mid-air exit and subsequent return, minus the scrolls.

She was in Canada. It was 8 o'clock in the morning. She was stiff and irritable, and Prim And Plain had told her to take a seat.

* * *

_2007_

Her attention was inexorably drawn to the black stone mantel, the little black tile edging glaring in her eyes in the most unpleasant way, which made her wish she had brought her disgustingly overpriced pair of sunglasses out of the car. There sat only one picture frame, painted fire engine red.

Getting heavily to her feet, Parker strolled across the room, acutely aware of her trendy high heels which were attempting to murder her feet.

The photograph looked professional. She held herself back from laughter. Not just some random happy snap then. It seemed, still, that the only happy snaps at the Centre were a bullet to the brain. The image showed four people. Parker immediately recognised her father, Mr. Parker, but the forty-year-old beside him, she did not. The woman was well endowed, with a somewhat plain though pretty face, its features soft in an almost soothing manner. The thing that struck Parker the most about this woman however, was not the conspicuous ring on her left hand – just shy of her pinky – but her complexion, like mochaccino. It was not that she was prejudiced, it was simply unexpected, and less expected was the little boy seated upon the smiling woman's lap, possibly three or four years old. Parker was momentarily confused, but then she figured this one was her evil twin's too. A small smiled tugged at the edges of her mouth at the sight of the slightly older boy, standing to the left of Mrs. Parker the Third. She almost hadn't recognised him. He would be seven this year. Her smile widened a little at the thought that she had missed it all, widened in a wretchedly miserable sort of way. Reagan could have been smiling, but then again, he could just as easily have been frowning. He had blue eyes, as did she and her twin, and red hair. For a moment, she wondered about this.

Bailey had slipped off the sofa with a hitching creak and was sprawled out on his stomach, his sweaty little hands gliding along the cool surface as he patted the marble, unfamiliar with such a floor-covering.

Parker turned at the sound and now stood, smiling. It wasn't a phoney smile, not even in the least bit pretend. It was a mother's smile.

Parker supposed The Narcissus Institute had grown bored of her, her ulcer preventing her from bearing any more children after Bailey. Bailey was old enough now, at four years of age. Parker was not thick. She was well aware of the reasons behind her transfer back to the Blue Cove. They wanted to start training Bailey. Parker still remembered the EduPro DSAs, as though she might, with time, be able to dismiss them as merely cleverly constructed cartoons. Bailey's integration into the Pretender Project would soon be complete, although Parker would sooner die before anyone hurt her baby that way, manipulated him the way they had his father.

* * *

She wondered what Aurora was doing. She missed the crazy girl, as much as it hurt to admit. She tried not to think of the girl on her own again. They never let her keep them long. Her babies. Sometimes, they had allowed her to see them, but never to approach them, or hold them, not even to hear their voices.

Aurora was not, of course, her birth name, simply a nickname Parker had coined to fill the vacancy, for the girl could not remember. Perhaps she simply did not want to face what she had become, perhaps the drugs had worked their magic and addled her brains.

There were seven of them now, eight not far off. A whole clan. Parker supposed the girl had been at The Narcissus Institute for around six years. One day, Parker promised herself silently, she would go back for her, her only companion in Hell where the walls were painted white. She supposed 'friend' would be an acceptable substitute. The girl had possibly been the single contributing factor that had kept her from losing all grip on reality. She could not hope to fix Aurora, but perhaps she could make existing a little more comfortable.

* * *

For a time Parker was unaware of the tears banking up in her eyes. If not for the sudden stuffiness in her sinuses, she might not have noticed at all. But now she needed to sniff. She reached up a hand and wiped the tears that threatened to tumble out of her eyes onto the back of her sleeve, sniffing loudly.

Bailey frowned concertedly at the marble, temporarily perplexed. Parker's smile returned at the sight. Not even Bailey licking the marble could wipe away her smile. Instead fresh tears welled up and replaced those she had wiped away. Laughing abruptly, Parker hurried across the marble floor and stooped before the little boy, seizing him around the middle so that she might lift him from the marble and snuggle him to her chest, chin on his scruffy brown hair, and turned full circle. He was heavier than she had remembered and she sighed, exasperated with herself. She didn't much care if she never wore heels again.

* * *

"I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't aware we had guests."

The giggling pair were interrupted by a woman's voice to their right. Placing the boy back on his feet, his little Crocs squeaking on the marble, she looked around, her bigger hand clutching Bailey's smaller one.

Parker briefly nodded and mentally appraised Mrs. Parker, her newest step mum on a growing list.

The woman smiled warmly and stepped into the room fully. "You have a beautiful son."

Parker didn't know whether to be wary or not. There was nothing threatening about that voice, yet… She chose her first instinct. She had had too much experience with smiling assassins to take this lying down. "Gorgeous," she responded, her eyes breaking from the younger woman's chocolatey gaze, momentarily resting upon her son. She turned and extended a hand, not taking a step forward, nor one back. "Parker."

The woman smiled and stepped up to shake her step daughter's hand. "Lisa," she said, with a sigh.

Parker felt herself grow cold. Wistfulness existed solely in romance novels as far as Parker was concerned. The woman couldn't have distanced herself more if she had wanted to.

"I must confess," Lisa told her, "James has told me so much of you that now that I am in your presence, I am a little shy." She giggled, waving an airy hand in front of her face. "You must think me terribly foolish."

Parker forced back what she would dearly have loved to have said and smiled falsely. "Oh no, not hardly." She might have thought better, yet she could not resist. "I myself am at a loss as to who exactly you may be, only that I assume you are the new and improved Mrs. Parker. So you see, you have slight advantage over me."

Lisa's smile faded. She did not hitch it back. Parker was disappointed. Lisa blinked. Parker imagined she could see the cogs working. Lisa gingerly took a step back, her hands out in front of her as though warding off an invisible assailant. "I'm sorry." Her voice very nearly cracked. Parker fought hard to keep the victory smile from her lips. Lisa could not stop shaking her head. "I'm so sorry." She spun 180 degrees and lurched, disappearing as suddenly as she had come.

Now that she was gone and Parker was once again the only visible adult, she felt a little childish and just a little bit guilty. She sighed. Daddy can't have been expecting much else, could he? With what he had sent. As though he thought such cheap displays of normalcy and lovey-doveyness could convince her.

* * *

Parker's increasingly hostile thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sobbing, punctuated by snippets of conversation. Parker recognised the male voice without having to think more than once, but now she felt a little more than foolish. Daddy would be disappointed, of course. And how dare he, when she was the one who should have been? But still. He would be disappointed.

Lisa's pleasant voice had gone whiny and pathetic. It hurt Parker's ears to hear it. Bailey sat beside her, listening intently.

"You said she was grieving."

Mr. Parker sighed his the-world-is-complicated sigh.

Lisa pushed on, her voice muffled as though her head may have been rested in her husband's shoulder. "That her boyfriend had left her with child and never even gave a second blink."

"You could say that…" Mr. Parker began confidently, trailing away abruptly.

"There is a difference, Jim," Lisa tried to reason, her voice firm, but with no ferocity.

"Lise-"

"No. Stop!" Lisa's voice was blank, empty. "I wrote letters. Still you said she wanted nothing but to be alone. You made it sound as though she couldn't face the world any longer. I was worried she might do something."

"Lise-"

"Just- Don't! Why can't you just stop?"

"Lise, it isn't like you think, there are certain things that-"

"You lied to me!" Lisa accused. "You lied to me as though I was a child and not capable of fathoming such mature concepts as you obviously feel you are."

"Lise-"

"You betrayed me. Betrayed our trust." She sobbed then. Out in the hall, she buried her head in her husband's shoulder and sobbed. "Now how am I to trust you? How am I to love someone I do not even know?"

Parker watched her father and saw confusion and hurt and regret and panic. She thought that they were making a very good show.

"But I do, Lise," Mr. Parker began, "I do love you." The conviction was lost, simply wasn't there. Parker was momentarily left wondering why her father had ruined a perfectly good ruse.

"No- You love the image!" Lisa told him. "But the eyes will deceive us. The heart will twist it all into a thousand knots until you only see what you want to see."

Mr. Parker looked as though to speak, but no words came.

Now Lisa couldn't be stopped. "Seeing is truly believing, husband. But belief is built of faith and not truth. Truth does not exist as such. Not to us mortals. Truth is different for each and every one, and how can it be any different? Perception is unique, you see. The one true measure of an individual, cannot truly be measured. Not now, not ever."

Mr. Parker watched as his wife pulled herself free of his arms, completely and utterly calm. "Lise-"

Lisa paused without turning. "Beth should meet his sister."

Mr. Parker didn't move. "Yes."

Lisa seemed to have made up her mind. She waited for his response out of simple courtesy. This Parker could tell. The child was hers.

"Lise?"

"I shall smile, husband. Macbeth does not deserve alarm he has been no cause in."

"Lise?" But she was gone.

Parker was somewhat confused.

Mr. Parker turned from the staircase and his eyes fell upon his daughter. He moved into the room without enthusiasm, his eyes never quite reaching her own. "Angel."

Parker didn't bother to pretend. Her voice was a cold acknowledgement. "Daddy." He wasn't really, but he was all she had for now. Parkers were opportunists. They made do. Life went on. She hated that she was so sterile, so cold, and thought that Aurora might have shaken her until she was made to see sense.

"You heard all that was said?"

Parker's expression remained unchanged. "For the most part, yes. And I must congratulate you. It was almost convincing."

Mr. Parker sighed and fell into the sofa beside Bailey.

Parker was caught off guard and blinked, turning to her father. He didn't speak, simply gazed down at his hands as though wondering if they were indeed his own and not some stranger's.

"Bailey is going to have no part in any of your's and Raines's sick experiments," his daughter began, "and if you think otherwise, you will have me to go through."

Mr. Parker sighed again and closed his eyes. "Yes, Angel. I am listening. I always listen."

Parker made to growl a retort when once again interrupted by Lisa. She stood in the doorway with a single case in one hand and the tiny hand of Macbeth in the other.

Mr. Parker jumped up from the sofa in a hurry. "Lise."

"I can't be here. I can't stand all the lies."

Mr. Parker stood as though super glued to the marble. "Lise, please-" He was pleading. Parker almost gaped. "Please don't do this!"

Lisa held his gaze with her own dead one, disenchanted in the worst way possible. "Perhaps, in time, we can be friends?" She stood and waited for her husband to introduce his son to the newly-arrived guests.

"Beth?"

Macbeth looked up at Mr. Parker. He was just a child.

"Come to daddy."

The child obeyed. "Is mummy upset with you, daddy?" he asked plainly.

"I fear so, yes."

The child nodded. "Do you love another woman?"

Mr. Parker knelt down and held the child's arms, straightening his collar. "No." He sighed heavily. "It is not as simple as all that. Love is the light outside and the darkness inside. Love is complicated, Beth. Remember that, won't you? Will you remember this for daddy?"

Macbeth nodded. "I will, daddy."

"You're a good boy." Mr. Parker's gaze shifted as though frightened. He stood once more, and turned to his daughter. "Beth, this is Miss Parker, your sister."

Macbeth stepped forward, extending a hand. "Hello."

The chit chat didn't last long. Fifteen minutes. Lisa couldn't wait any longer. She strode into the room and took Macbeth by the hand. "Say goodbye to daddy."

The boy obliged. "Goodbye, daddy."

"And now your sister."

"Goodbye, Miss Parker."

Parker nodded.

"Bye," Bailey interrupted.

"Goodbye," Macbeth chimed.

The pair turned away. Parker had heard the car pull up outside ten minutes ago. The driver was waiting. "Goodbye, husband."

"No, wait!" Mr. Parker moved across the room as though possessed.

Lisa quickened her pace, hurrying along.

"I love you. You know that. Surely you must know that? Beth knows that."

Lisa reached for the door.

Mr. Parker touched her arm, causing her to turn ever so slightly. "Please, Lise, please don't go."

"I have to."

"No." Mr. Parker struggled to explain.

"Yes."

"Lise-"

"How can I trust you?"

"I love you, isn't that enough?"

Lisa shook he head, sad.

"Faith is blind. Have faith in our love. I'm pleading here, Lise. I need to make you see. Faith brought us Macbeth. Please just listen to me. How am I to go on without you? And Beth?"

Lisa shrugged his hand from her arm, pulling the door wide. "I will be around."

"I want you here."

"Why?"

"I'll get jealous. I'll think you with another man."

"And why not?"

"We're married!"

"You betrayed me. You betrayed me and then you betrayed yourself. In my mind, there is no marriage. Uncompromising love. Those were your words. Now I have sacrificed and sacrificed for your work and I am tired. Work does not make me happy. Work feeds us, work pays our bills, work is good to us, but no more. No more us. Only you and me and I must leave."

Mr. Parker tossed his head. "I'll stop you!"

"How?"

He took her arm.

She tried to pull away. "Let go."

"I can't."

"You're scaring Macbeth!"

"I know."

She pulled again. "Let go!"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"You have to stay."

Lisa's expression became panicked and she began to struggle. "I won't."

"You can't go."

"I am and I will." Taking her husband's wrist, she attempted to loosen his grip on her arm. Her overlarge eyes landed on her confused son. He needed something to distract him. "Macbeth, go to the car and ask the driver to step out for a moment. Your mother needs his help."

The child strode off in the direction of the car.

Parker watched from the hall, gasping when her father took Lisa about the waist and heaved her up into his arms as Thomas had never done on their wedding night that had never been.

Lisa whined, indignant. "Put me down!"

"I won't!"

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"I won't let anyone else have you!"

Lisa whined again, making a feeble attempt at struggle, and shot the driver a helpless glance. "I don't have anyone else."

"Then why are you looking at him?"

Lisa whined a third time. "Because you're being ridiculously stupid."

"I want a daughter."

"You have a daughter."

He shook his head. "I want her to look as beautiful as you."

Lisa was exasperated. "Put me down."

"I intend to." He turned and stomped off inside, carrying Lisa as though she were a damsel in distress.

"What are you doing, you silly man?"

"I'm taking you upstairs." Lisa looked confused, gazing back across at the driver, desperate. "And then I'll put you down – on the bed."

Parker backed off into the wall as her father passed.

Lisa scowled at her husband's smile. "You'll never get up the stairs."

"Watch me!"

Lisa howled, hysteric. "Put me down!"

"Yes, yes," he chimed, "all in good time…"

"Put me down!"

Mr. Parker stopped before the staircase and took a few sobering breaths. Lisa started to kick her legs, appearing more like a kidnapping victim than a damsel in distress.

"Parker," Lisa howled, "tell him to put me down. He's going to hurt himself."

Parker remained lost for words.

"Parker!"

Mr. Parker tutted, pleased with himself.

"Put me down right this instant!"

"Pardon?" He pretended not to hear, although she was hollering nearly in his ear.

"Jimmy, put me the Hell down!"

Mr. Parker sighed. "You want me to put you down?"

Lisa sighed, tired, but glad to have finally broken through. "Yes, just put me down."

"You really want me to put you down?" he asked a second time.

A second time Lisa answered. "I really want you to put me down."

Mr. Parker sighed, casting a glance around the hall. "If you say so."

"I say so."

"Alright then," Mr. Parker agreed finally, and put her down, "But you don't think we should go into the parlour?"

Lisa frowned. "Why?"

"I don't mind if the driver watches if you don't mind. But he's not having you. You're mine. And Angel is most definitely not watching. Beth and Bailey are too young. I'm afraid they can't watch either."

Lisa growled, interrupting her husband's rambling that sounded more like he was compiling a shopping list. "What are you on about?"

"We're going to make a daughter."

Lisa snorted and moved swiftly up the hall toward the door, hardly noticing the way Parker pressed herself against the wall as though scared for her life, clutching Bailey's hand as though it were her one last lifeline.

Mr. Parker took his wife about the middle and dragged her back. "Don't you struggle now. It is only proper that I fulfil some part of my wedding vows. Or else, that wouldn't be a marriage."

"Let me go! I'm leaving," Lisa hollered.

"So you can go with the driver?"

Lisa stopped struggling and with some difficulty, turned to face Mr. Parker, slapping him across the face, but not too hard.

"Look, if you're really fixated on this driver, maybe I could share, for a minute or two? Would that make you happy?"

Lisa slapped him again, a little harder this time, a horrified expression gracing her soft features.

Parker had a feeling her father had lost his last semblance of sanity. With the horrible weight of reality crashing down, she found her legs and moved before her brain had time to catch up. "Daddy!" She couldn't believe what she was hearing come out of her own father's mouth. She wanted him to be ill. She couldn't be hearing such things. Her daddy was scaring her and she didn't know what to do.

Mr. Parker barely noticed his daughter, his blue eyes locked with Lisa's wide brown ones. Lisa took off down the hall as Parker dragged her father into the parlour, out of the hall, out of sight of Lisa. That was that then. The car drove away and thankfully Mr. Parker didn't get up to chase after it.

Parker sat on her father's left side, Bailey beside her.

* * *

**Author's Note** This was written in 2007, before I'd seen _IOTH_, so I had to change a couple of lines, though as it was over a year ago I'm not sure I could really pick it up again, but if someone was interested I might try. Your thoughts are appreciated, even if just to say it scared you.


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